Rubies
by OakeX
Summary: Sabrina and Puck were dating. Puck left to travel with Jake, and stopped contacting her halfway through. Now he's come back. Does contain a couple of dark themes. Fiddled around with the ages a little too, so they're 17 at the start.
1. Chapter 1

**Please review and thank you for reading. They're around 17 at the start of the story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Sisters Grimm**

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Sabrina stood there in the cold, brightly lit interior of the airport. Her arms were wrapped around Puck, who was kissing her hair, and she was sobbing into his shoulder. "It's ok," he whispered into her ear "it's ok, it's ok, it's ok..." Tears starting running down his face "Dammit Sabrina you're making me cry! Do you know what's that's going to do to my reputation?" She pressed herself harder into his neck, shaking slightly "Listen, I'll be back before you know it ok? We'll call every day. I'll write. It'll be fine alright?"

Sabrina lifted her head off his shoulder, sniffing. "Promise?" she whispered.

"Promise. Hope to die," he said, making an cross over his heart. He grinned at her, and she smiled slightly, pulling him back in.

"I'm a mess right now," she mumbled into his chest "I can't believe I'm crying. I never cry."

"Better you cried that I was leaving than not at all. Otherwise I'd think you didn't care."

"Of course I care. At least you're crying too." the corners of her lips twitched upwards, and she stroked his cheek.

"Well yeah," he admitted sheepishly, "but only because you are." she started crying again, soaking his already wet shoulder. Suddenly, the airport intercom rattled out its tinny message

_Attention. Those taking the 10:30 plane to Los Angeles, the plane is now open for boarding. Thank you_.

It closed with a squeal and Puck slowly pulled her head away from him. He brushed the tears of her face and gave a small chuckle.

"That's my cue."

"Don't leave..." Sabrina whispered

"I have to..."

"I know but I don't want you to..." Tears built up in her eyes and Puck grabbed her shoulders gently, looking into her eyes.

"Don't Sabrina. Please. You're making this harder than it has to be. You're stronger than this! You've fought monsters, you've killed dragons, but you can't handle me leaving for a couple of years?"

She grimaced. "No."

He smiled. "No, I can't either. But I have to. You understand that right?"

She nodded slightly, a brief incline of her head.

"Ok." He slowly bent down to pick up his carry-on bag.

"Wait!" she said sharply

"Yeah?" he asked

"I love you."

He smiled. "I love you too." He pulled her in, bringing their lips together for a fleeting moment. Short. Sweet. It was the best he could do, before he started crying again. He broke away, and began to walk slowly backwards, keeping his eyes locked on her.

"Phone every day!" she called, as he neared the gate "And write every week!"

"I will!" He entered the gate, and was gone from view. Sabrina's shoulders started shaking, and she felt Granny Relda's arm loop through hers.

"Let's go home liebling." Sabrina nodded, unable to form words, and they walked slowly out of the airport, to that creaking machine they called a car.

X

Puck had stayed true to his promise.

Every day he had called her, sounded tired but happy, the constant change in time zones magnifying his jet lag. They'd talk for hours, the phone bill growing ever higher, at just about anything, from the newest magical item Puck had just gotten, to the diverse colours of Granny's recently cooked dinner.

The letters they sent were pages long. Written down in blue or black ink, they'd arrive every week, filled with both stories of Puck's adventures and his innermost thoughts, most of them concerning the girl he sent them to, or in Sabrina's case, her most recent mysteries and the events happening at home.

However, there were always two things that remained constant amidst all their communication: they'd always end with 'I love you', and they never felt it was enough.

Calling each other and hearing their voices was little consolation to their pain of being away, and there were several nights when Sabrina would cry into her pillow, clutching a green hoodie, or Puck would stand in the shower and think for almost an hour about her, tears and water dripping down his face.

Then one day, the letters stopped.

...

It was gradual at first, a missed week here and there, one letter a couple pages shorter than the rest, enough to worry Sabrina slightly but not enough to actually make her take action. He's probably just tired, she thought, I can't blame him, travelling all over the world.

But soon, the missed weeks built up, piled on each other, tumbling and falling, and though Sabrina sent letters every week, she soon failed to receive any in return. But she still had the phone calls right? A lack of letters would be alright as long as he called every day? Except he didn't.

It began with he'd only call once every three days, then it became once a week, than once a fortnight, then once every month, until eventually the fact that Puck called her was a larger surprise than the fact that he didn't. Their conversations were short, to the point, formal, the time dwindling down from 2 hours to 1 hour to 10 minutes. 5 minutes. 3 minutes. 1.

It had cut her, like a knife, to see how little he cared. She wanted to scream at him, yell at him, 'Why don't you care?! Why don't you reply?'. But she knew that if she did, he'd call even less, and she couldn't take that. So all she could do was move on with her life, nursing the bittersweet hope that one day he'd love her again, fighting the almost constant urge to buy a plane ticket and fly to wherever he was.

One night, she was lying in bed and the phone rang. Jerking with shock, she bolted down the stairs and picked up the receiver, hoping against hope it was him. It was. The voice on the other end was shaky, and nervous.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How are you?"

"Good. You?"

"Not bad." A short silence followed.

"So... where are you?"

"America." Another silence.

"Why haven't you called recently?"

"..." A loud gulp followed "I've been busy."

"Right."

"Right."

"When are you coming back?"

"I'm not sure. Depends."

"On what?"

"Whether we find what we're looking for. How long it'll take. That kind of thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I miss you." There was a quiet wheeze.

"I... think about you." Hot tears sprang to her eyes, and her voice fell to a trembling whisper.

"I love you." A single choke. A final silence.

"...I have to go now Sabrina. Bye." She hung up, slamming the phone on the cradle and went back upstairs, crying.

...

She knew it was over now.

He didn't call again, after that night, and she stopped sending letters.

She looked at herself in the mirror, wiped her nose, dried her eyes, smiled, and moved on. She went on dates with other guys, although none of them lasted long, did her homework, watched TV, sat exams, talked to her friends.

She seemed to all the world that she was fine, happy, like him leaving had never bothered her at all.

But Daphne knew, and Granny knew, and Mr Canis knew. They saw the white box under her bed, a green hoodie carefully folded inside. They saw her careful avoidance of his room, and her intense dislike towards chimpanzees. They saw all this but said nothing. Because what could they say? She had chosen her own path, and he his, and for now, they were content.

Broken. But content.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to those who read the first chapter and are reading this one. I hope you like it.**

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And then he came back. She had been sitting in her room, at her desk, sketching something, when she heard the door creak open.

"What is it Daphne?" she said, her gaze still focused on the sheet of paper in front of her. No one replied.

Frowning, Sabrina turned around. "Daph-" she was suddenly cut off when strong arms lifted her out of her chair, and she began rising slowly. She twisted her head and saw him. Two years had done a lot to him. His arms were leaner and tougher now, his concave chest have filled out, his shoulders had broadened and widened. But he still had that same messy blonde hair, the glinting green eyes, and that gleaming grin on his face.

"Put me down Puck!" she screamed.

"Oh come on Sabrina! I haven't held you in-"

"I said put me down!" Her face was slowly turning red, fury etched in every line of her body, radiating off of her like fire. His smile faded and he lowered her gently, carefully placing her on her bed.

"What's wrong Sa-"

"You jerk! I can't believe you!"

"What did I-?"

"You ignored me for one and a half years! You used to call me everyday, you sent me letters, you used to care! And then what? You stopped! You just left me here, on my own, and didn't even think about telling me why! You could have been dead! And now you think you can just stroll in here and pretend everything's ok? No! Get out!"

"But I-"

"No!"

"You have to let me explain-"

"I don't care about your explanation! You had one and a half years to explain! It's too late now! Get out!" Suddenly she collapsed on her duvet, tears streaming down her face, holding her face in her hands. Puck rushed forward, putting his arms around her, murmuring in her ear. She thrashed upwards, breaking free of his grip, backing herself against the wall.

"Don't touch me! Get out!"

"I-"

"Out!" she screamed, throwing her pencil at him. He didn't move. She walked up to him and punched him in the gut, eighteen months of anger and sadness curled up in that fist. He bent over, groaning in pain, clutching his stomach and she kicked him.

"Get. Out." She whispered, low and quietly, the calm before the storm. Gasping for breath he hobbled out, wincing in pain. She slammed the door behind him and crumpled onto her bed, sobbing into her pillow, the drawing forgotten. It had been a picture of a fairy.

...

They didn't talk for weeks after that. She had cut him out, ignored everything he said, greeted all his words with frosty silence. She'd throw away everything he wrote, not bothering to read it, toss every gift he gave her in the trash. Eventually he stopped trying. But he still cared. And so did she.

...

Late one night, he ambushed her in her room, while she was asleep. He had been tossing and turning, unable to drift off, his mind whirling and churning with thoughts. _I can't take this_, he thought, _I've got to tell her_. He snuck into her room, tiptoeing on the floorboards, and gently shook her awake. As soon as she saw him, her peaceful expression turned into a grimace, and she laid down again.

"Sabrina-"

"Go away."

"Sabrina you have to let me-"

"I said go away. I don't care."

Sudden fury built in him, built from eight weeks of ignorance, and he hissed dangerously. "No! Sabrina, you've ignored me for the last two months! You haven't listened to a word I said, apology or anything! You are listening to me now, whether you want to or not!"

She rolled her eyes and sighed, sitting up. "Fine. What?"

He took a deep breath. "Sabrina I love you, you know that. I trust you, and I never want to hurt you, and all that. But I..." he tailed off, marshalling his thoughts. But when Sabrina suddenly interrupted, the words died in his throat.

"If you're here to say sorry, it's too late. You neglected me for eighteen months, you hurt me. A lot. I don't care if you didn't mean to, but I loved you. Do you get that? I loved you. I waited for you. I hung onto our calls, I wrote you letters every week, I kept my phone on all the time, just in case you called. But you didn't. You left me Puck, you abandoned me for a plane ticket and some glowing trinkets. I can't trust you. I don't love you."

"...What?"

"It's over."

Those words had hurt him more than anything else, more than getting his wings torn off, more than seeing Sabrina fall off the water tower.

"But... I love you."

She lay down, pressing her face into her pillow, her body language clear. _Leave._ In the half-light, he thought he could see her shoulders shaking and hear quiet sobs, or maybe that was just him.

He walked out of her room, head down, back hunched, tears falling like rain. When he entered his room, he tripped and fell sprawling onto the grass.

He didn't bother getting up, just lay there, weeping into the dirt and mud as the moon shone over him, bathing his head in soft light, changing his hair from blonde to silver. His eyes changed, from glimmering green to faded grey, dark shadows cutting through his neck and back.

...

Puck sat at the dinner table, absentmindedly stirring his soup, purple smoke wafting under his nose.

The table was silent. No one spoke, there wasn't a single sound, except for the occasional clink of a fork and a badly-timed cough. Puck would have found it funny, probably belched a ball of fire or turned his head into a donkey and brayed, if he had noticed.

His head was bent down, eyes trained on his bowl, but they began to swivel upwards to the blonde girl opposite him. He snapped them down quickly, but it was too late, a picture of her sitting there eating had already formed in his mind.

He blinked hurriedly, and he thought furiously _'I will not cry. I will not cry. I am the Trickster King. Royalty never cries.'_ But no kind of mantra could have prepared him for what would have happened next. Sabrina had cleared her throat, and said loudly:

"So tomorrow Bradley's coming over for dinner-" He never heard the rest.

"No." he croaked. Pushing his squealing chair back, he dropped his spoon into his dinner and walked upstairs, silently, a tight, white-knuckled grip on the railing. He didn't speak another word for the rest of that evening.

...

Early the next day he silently left through the front door, a travel bag in his hand. On the kitchen table, he left a note, hurriedly scrawled. _Gone for the weekend. Be back Monday morning. Bye._ A vivid red drop had been left on it. No one had said anything, just shook their heads in weary resignation. All, that is, except for Sabrina who had clutched the note between shaking fingers, the crimson stain beneath her ring finger. _'Bradley's coming over tonight.'_

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**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for those who have read this far. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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He had seen them once, on a date. His wrists ached, but they healed quickly, and the cuts were never too deep, not enough to leave scars.

The man's arm was linked around her waist, and her head was on his shoulder. He was whispering something in her ear and she was laughing, slapping him playfully on the shoulder. The corners of his lips twitched upwards, to see her so happy, and the roguish grin sparked somewhere.

Then he saw who she was with and the smile faded. That night, his wrists did more than just ache.

That night, the floor was speckled with vivid red drops.

...

Going out for a walk was one of Puck's favourite hobbies.

It helped him clear his head, get in touch with that little mischievous fairy boy he was before he met the old lady. It was typically a forest, a park would work as well, but a forest was more natural, more focused on who he was.

It was during those walks, during those times when he could stretch his legs, and his wings, when he felt relaxed, and calm. Like he could push all his grief and despair to the back of his mind for just that one moment, and be transported back to a time when he was immature and ignorant of the world around him. It was his one place of peace, and tranquility, and freedom. Corrupted, tainted, freedom, but freedom nonetheless.

So on those days when he could no longer bear being cooped up inside, when the feeling of claustrophobia and self-pity proved too much and he had to leave, he would open a window, peer carefully out, and soar. He would dive towards the clouds, spin and twirl in tight circles, whoop and laugh and cry in sheer, desperate joy. Then he'd remember her, and stop, and land, ground himself in the big city and walk the rest of the way.

He'd walk, admire the leaves, smile at the fresh vibrant life of the green summer leaves, at the colourful blossoms of spring. He'd gently avoid the autumn leaves, the slowly dying leaves with their bright distracting hues of fire, and stare wistfully at the bare branches of winter.

They remind him of himself, once so happy and carefree, now stripped and naked. It would be in one of those dead trees, the ones he connected with the most, where he would perch, and just breathe. Just let it out for just one minute, centre himself.

Just like he is now. He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling, feeling the cold winter air circulate in his mouth and in his lungs. It hurt a little, like some prickly ice needles were swirling around in the air, but he didn't mind. He learnt how to deal with pain. He heard a crackling sound, as someone tramped through the woods, and lifted an eyelid, unwilling to break his desperate flow. He wished he hadn't.

It was her, Sabrina, Sabrina Grimm.

And she was walking in his forest.

_'No.'_ he thought feverishly _'Not here. Please God not here.'_ But she was there, and so was he. _'I have to go. I'm not ready.'_ He leapt quietly off, landing cat-like on the soft, mulchy ground.

But she must have heard something because she turned around suddenly.

And just stared.

Not a single word, not even a flicker of expression. Just stared at him, with almost comically-wide eyes.

He gulped, repeatedly, his throat bobbing up and down like a drowning man at sea, great mouthfuls of air that seemed to shake his entire body. He took a hesitant step forward, an outstretched hand shaking, his mouth open to say something, anything at all, that could convey to her how much he loved her, how sorry he was.

But his trained eyes picked out her sneakered foot slowly sliding back, one behind the other, slightly curled fingers coming up. She saw him as a threat. She, Sabrina Grimm, saw him as a threat, as someone that could and would hurt her.

His eyes dropped, pupils falling to the ground, and his extended arm faltered. Turning, he flew, far away, back to his apartment where he could escape the world. He didn't leave for weeks after that.

And when he did, he never returned to that forest.

He just couldn't.

...

One day he had walked to the store, in search of a bottle of milk. He never bought cartons now, had some perverse repulsion towards them. He thinks its because the old lady only bought cartons, and thinking about the old lady led to thinking about her house, and thinking about her house led to...

Running the back of his hand over his eyes, he entered the small building, feeling the chill of air conditioning waft over his skin. _'It's like my days back in the forest'_ he thought _'When I used to lie down under the trees.'_ It was thoughts like that, distracting ones that led him back to an older, more solitary life that kept him moving, kept his mind occupied. Even if they were less satisfying, even if they lacked her. _'But that's a good thing isn't it?'_ He sighed. _'Of course it isn't.'_

He slouched over to the back, to the cooler section at the very end where all the frozen goods were kept. Perusing the shelves, he grabbed what he wanted and stalked to the counter, one hand firmly holding the bottle. All the other checkouts were full, with long snaking lines, bar one.

He walked over, eyes downcast, looking to the all the world as he always did. Depressed. He lifted his milk onto the machine and was surprised to see Snow in front of him, with her glossy black hair and her pale white skin. She turned when she heard the scuffle of his shoes, and smiled. He attempted to smile back, really he did, but all he managed to do was bare a couple of teeth, which made it look like he wanted to charge at her rather than say hi.

She grabbed her things and walked out of the line, waiting patiently for him to finish. Taking his plastic bag, he moved over to her, and mumbled a quiet greeting.

"Hello."

"Hello Puck, it's nice to see you. You look good."

"I suppose so." He made no attempt to return the compliment.

"How you've been?" She asked, frowning. Polite conversation was never her forte, and on someone as curt as Puck it never really worked out.

He snorted. "How do you think I've been?"

"You don't go out much."

He shrugged. "There's no reason to. I have all I need at home."

"Right. A computer and a fridge full of junk food." In that moment, her sarcasm was so much like _hers_, that he flinched. He quickly recovered.

"You make it sound like I'm missing something."

"No, you're not. You're missing someone."

He didn't reply for a couple minutes. "That's what you think."

"Because it's true."

"Says who?"

"Says everyone! Says anyone with eyes! God Puck, do you think we're blind?"

"Well I don't see how it's anyone's business!"

"Because we care about you Puck! Because we don't want you getting hurt!"

He laughed, long and low, a bitter, harsh, cruel laugh. "Yeah, well done Snow, well done." He kicked the ground. "It's a bit late to start worrying now."

Her eyes flashed at his sarcasm, anger or hurt? She spoke coolly. "Well holing yourself up at home isn't going to help either."

"Yeah, well it's better than the the other option."

"What other option?"

"You know what I mean."

"No, no I don't."

"Yes you do!"

"How do you know? Just tell me Puck!"

"It's better than seeing her!" he roared, like some feral tiger, "It's better than going up to her and seeing how indifferent she is, seeing how little she cares! Here I am, wasting away because I'm hung up on some girl I ruined, and she's managed to move on but I haven't! Do you know what's its like, seeing her go off with some guy? And what's worse, what's worse than all this," and here he laughed maniacally, arms flailing "is that he's so much better! He can care for her, make her laugh, remind her how amazing she really is! And all I do is make her cry, and I can't even go near her, because he's so much better for her, and if I do I'll just ruin things!" He calmed down, breathing heavily. "You don't know what it's like, wanting someone so much but knowing you can't have them."

Snow's eyes flashed again, definitely anger this time, and now it was her turn to shout. "You think so? You really think that? Puck, I'm married to Prince Charming. He's gone off with three other princesses, Puck, three! And God knows who else he pursued when I wasn't there! But he loves me Puck, I know he does, and I know she loves you just as much as you do. You can't just assume she hates you."

"I'm not assuming, I know. I see the way her shoulders tense, the way her arms stiffen. She hates me, Snow, I know it."

"Perhaps if I talked to her..." She said uncertainly.

"No!" He grabbed her arm fiercely, fingers gripping tightly, with wildly darting eyes "Don't! You'll scare her off! And I can't take that..."

"Why not?"

"Because... because if you do, I'll have nothing left of her. And least, when she sees me, she'll know I exist..." He let go and flew off, loosely holding the milk. Landing, he slung open the apartment door and threw the bottle on the kitchen top, powering up the computer. That night, he let himself cry, tears streaming down his face as red lines laced across his arm. The next morning, he changed his bedsheets.

...

He wasn't sent an invitation. Of course he wasn't, he wasn't expecting one, but it had hurt all the same. He looked at himself in the mirror. Black suit, black shirt, black shoes, black tie. _'I look like I'm going to a funeral.'_ Then his eyes flicked sidewards, to a picture of them at the beach kissing and he grimaced. _'But then again, I suppose in a way I am.'_

...

He had watched from the air, pink wings buzzing. He hadn't said anything, hadn't cried, except for one tear, when she had seen him. They had locked gazes, blue on receding grey, for a second, and then she looked away. _'She doesn't care'_ he thought. It would have been better if she shooed him off, flicked a finger, or even frowned. Anything to show that she still acknowledged him, still realised he was there.

But she had ignored him, and that had hurt most of all.

He flew away after that, the sound of cheering like death in his ear, a swooping scythe whistling to meet his heart.

X

She had moved after that. She was still in the same town, of course, they couldn't afford to let her go, but she had moved to the far west of the town, as far away as possible. Puck had rented a small flat, deep in the outskirts of the city, the walls of his home bare and empty. Except for one small picture, the frame cracked so heavily it blurred the image.

All you could make out was a glint of yellow, amongst a web of sharp breaks.

He never left the east side, avoided the west like the plague. It had been so many years, so many years that stretched along like barbed wire, but every time he saw the frame there was a pang in his chest. His arms were lined with long white scores, faded and light, but visible, and dead straight, except for the occasional curve, where his shaking hands had failed him.

In his pocket, he always carried a piece of paper, covered in writing on both sides, with a small velvet box beside it.

_'One day'_ he thought to himself, every night. _'I'll do it one day.' _A small carry-on bag and suitcase sat in the corner, the same ones from the last time he left.

A bloodstained knife lay beside it.

...

The sun was up that day, bright and cheerful, and a warm breeze slinked in quietly. Puck breathed in, feeling something close to joy surface in his chest. He hadn't cried once since the wedding. Not a single drop. If he did, it would have been admitting that he still cared, that it still hurt him. And he couldn't admit that. Not physically, at least, not so that he'd have to explain why.

On that day, he decided to go to Briar's cafe, and then maybe go grocery shopping. _'She won't be there' _he thought _'the day is too nice for something like that to happen.' _He had been right. She wasn't in the coffee shop, or the supermarket. He had loaded up his bags with fruit, apples, oranges, things like that, and left.

As he walked back, he saw the old house in the distance, sturdy and new-looking. _'Daphne's taken good care of it,'_ he thought _'it doesn't look a day old'_.

Then he saw her.

And stopped.

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**Thanks to everyone for reading this. Please review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**If anyone read this story before I updated it on the 24th of October, I advise you reread the story because I've added some new parts and changed the ending due to some helpful advice from Curlscat (Thank you for helping). This is a further continuation of the story. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review.**

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She had been standing there, looking up at the paint work of the building, when she heard the rustle of falling plastic and the thud of objects hitting the ground. She turned around in surprise, and flinched when she saw him.

He had grown up now, no longer a sixteen year old teenager, but a twenty five year old young man. His blonde hair was still thick and wild, his chin smooth and clean-shaven, and his stomach flat and strong. But his arms had thickened, so now they were lean and hard, and his chest and shoulders had broadened. He was staring up at her in shock, oranges rolling around his feet, before he shook his head, eyelids blinking dimly.

His face was cool, cold, his brow drawn together, but she could see his wet eyes, his shaking lip, and looked away.

"Hi." he said.

"Hi."

"Congratulations on the marriage."

"A few years late but thanks." They were quiet, in control, like two strangers on the train.

A long silence followed, broken only by the wind, which had begun to pick up.

"Daphne's done a good job on the house." Puck said awkwardly, gesturing at the bright walls. His eyes were darting everywhere, the roof of the building behind him, the rustling leaf spinning around on the ground, everywhere and anywhere but her.

"Yeah she has."

An apple hit his foot, and he was suddenly jerked back to reality. Pulling his gaze away from her face, he bent down and began to hurriedly pick them up, bundling them into the empty bag.

"I'm sorry." he whispered. She didn't reply.

"I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I made you cry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I know you can't forgive me, I know you're already married, I know we broke up years ago, but I'm sorry." He couldn't speak after that. He couldn't take it. His head dropped to his bent knee and he started to cry, sobs racking his body. He still cared. It still hurt. Hurt like absolute hell. But deep down, he knew he deserved it. He had hurt her, he had brought her this same pain. He owed it to her to take it.

"It's too late..." she said, but her voice was shaky, and it cracked halfway through. He began to cry harder, tears rolling down his jeans, soaking his leg.

"I've got..." He checked his pockets, feverishly searching, desperately tearing at his jacket pouches "I've got something for you." He pulled out the piece of paper, carefully folded, soft and yellowed with age. Gingerly setting it down, he placed the small scarlet box on top of it and stood up. Tears fell on the letter, blotting it, showing the ink underneath, and he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

"I-I'm sorry." He shuddered. "I still love you." He turned around and walked away, hands thrust in his coat, head down, back hunched, tears falling like rain. When she started to cry, he wanted so badly to turn around and hug her, press her to his chest and tell her it'd be alright. But he knew he couldn't. So he kept on walking, body spasming.

Sabrina had cried once he left. She cried into her sleeve, leaning against the lamp post as she sobbed into the thin fabric of her shirt. When she finally lifted her head up, she saw the letter, under the box. Picking it up, she gently smoothed it out, carefully turning away so her tears didn't stain it, and read. The handwriting was spidery and light, in black ink, completely different to the confident, thick letters Puck usually wrote. She began to cry even harder.

_Hey Sabrina_

_I know I haven't written or called in a while and I'm sorry. But considering I won't be alive for much longer, I thought I should probably write you something before I go. I'm in hospital right now, hooked up to all sorts of magical fairy drips and things, and I've been going in and out for the last year and a half. _

_J__ake's been going on without me, I've gone to New York where the fairies can take care of me. The damn cocoon won't work either, I think it's cause this is a magical wound instead of a physical one but I wouldn't know, I never cared much about healing._

_ I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but I didn't want you to worry and, trust me, knowing that would have made this ten times harder. So what happened was that me and Jake were out hunting for magical items, obviously. And we found the ring from Rumpelstiltskin, you know, the one the miller's daughter gave him? Well turns out you can't touch it, which would have been helpful to know before I did exactly that. _

_The ring blew up and slammed some nasty magic protection spell thing into my face. The doctors couldn't figure out what went wrong. They said that because I'm a fairy, my magical blood should have at least neutralised the effects to the point that the ring would just heat up, instead of exploding. Well that's what they thought until Jake told them about you. Apparently, love amplifies the effects of the ring slightly. Slightly, as in you'd need to love someone an awful lot for it to blow up. Heh. Figures it'd be me and not my dad or something. _

_That little heart monitor thing next to me has been beeping slower every day, I think it's down to like 30 beeps a minute or something. Apparently, even thinking about love makes it worse, which would explain why it's getting so bad. I'm sorry about my last phone call, if I had said 'I love you' I think I would have dropped dead right there. Please believe me I really am. I thought you should know from me, not Jake or someone. You're probably going to be really annoyed at me for keeping this from you, but hey, you can't hate a dead man. Or fairy, in this case. _

_Just do me one favour. I want you to go find someone else, someone who will care for you just as much as I want to. And make sure they don't go off travelling for magic things and randomly touching them. Look where that turned out._

_I don't want my beautiful girlfriend hung up on some dead fairy._

_I love you_

_Puck_

Sabrina flipped it over, whimpering. The handwriting was strong and clear now, in blue this time, but small spots of red dotted the paper.

_Hi_

_I don't know why I'm writing this for you, you hate me right now. But if you've decided to keep reading, I just want you to know I love you. You hating me and going off and marrying Bradley hasn't changed that. But if you're going to go and kick me out of your life, I thought you should at least know the rest about me. _

_After I got out of hospital, I realised how little time I had left, how even though I'm an Everafter I can still die. So I bought you this ring. It's not very flashy I know, I didn't have a lot of money. But I swear I was going to buy a better one for the wedding. Well, as you know, I didn't need to._ Here, the writing had been so shaky it was almost illegible, and a large drop stained it, with a small swirl of red inside. _I'm sorry I hurt you, I'm sorry I caused you that pain. __I __never wanted to do that, and if this is what you want, I swear I'll stay out of your life forever.__I'm sorry. I love you._

_Goodbye._

_Puck_

She had crumpled to the floor at that point, laid on the ground and wept. The box lay opened beside her, a small silver ring inside with a blood-red ruby set in it. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and her breath came out in ragged gasps. '_He can't,'_ she thought frantically, '_he can't do this. He won't do that, he loves himself too much for that.'_

But she knew, despite her frantic inner protests, that he loved her more, that when he wrote that letter he was dead serious. All these years she had ignored him, left him, hated him for what he had did, even though he had to, because he loved her. And now... Now... '_I have to stop him.'_ she thought '_He can't do this.'_

Standing up, she ran, all the way across town, to his house, cars swerving wildly out of her way. In her hands, she clutched the paper, and the box, and the ring, her mind swirling with one thought. '_He can't.'_

_..._

As soon as he had rounded the corner, he had flown home, tears blinding him. He couldn't see, he couldn't breathe, it had hurt so much more than he had thought it would. His path was crooked, haphazard, erratically chaotic. '_I have to get out of here. I can't do this.'_

Already his mind was picturing vivid images of the suitcase, of the carry bag, the plane ticket hidden away in his desk. His heart pounded in his chest like a hammer, slamming against his ribcage so hard it hurt. Bang. Bang. Bang. Gunshots rang from his chest. '_I can't take this. It's too much. I can't stay here any longer.'_

Suddenly, one memory appeared in his mind, like a beautifully unlocked cell door in the prison which he was in. A knife, red and slick and glistening.

'_Just let me leave,_' he thought desperately '_I don't care if it'll hurt. She'll be happy, and I'll be free. Just let me leave. Please.'_ He yelled it out, whispered it, howling to the world, pleading to some unknown force which hovered at the very edge of his consciousness.

He landed at his apartment building and, throwing open the door, he rushed up the stairs. In his room, tucked away in the corner, lay the bag. But no knife. '_Where is it?'_ he thought feverishly, looking around wildly, like a cornered animal, trapped by a pack of predators.

He ransacked his drawers, threw everything out, clothes, photos, books. He stripped the bookshelves, broke open the couches, smashed his bed apart, in his frantic search.

Nothing.

Nowhere.

He couldn't find it. '_Where?! Where?!'_. Then suddenly, it came to him. Unzipping the bag, he emptied out the contents, scattering them on the ground. And there it was.

Dull with the rusty colour of blood, the handle worn away from constant use, it was the second most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Grasping it, he poised it towards himself, the tears suddenly gone, his heart light in the anticipation of freedom. There was an easy smile on his lips, the one he used to have, long long before. Kind of.

'_Goodbye Sabrina. I love you'_ He took a deep breath, tensed his muscles.

Then she came in.

...

She screamed as soon as she saw him.

There he stood, surrounded by the wreckage of his house, wood and dust and debris strewn around him, a stained knife held in his fingers, shaking slightly over his chest.

Bolting forward, she grabbed it, cutting her palm on its sharp edge, and threw it aside, her own blood mixing with his, far away amongst the ruin of his house.

She hugged him fiercely, crying into his shoulder, just like she had so many years ago at the airport. Except this time, he wasn't leaving. His arms went around her, clasping her to him, tighter and tighter and tighter.

Tears ran down his cheeks, soaking her shoulder, but they were tears of joy, of love, of immense and complete relief.

She cared.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled, her words almost incoherent in her desperation to get them out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I love you, I love you so much, I'm sorry."

He wrapped his arms tighter around her, whispering into her ear, kissing her hair, comforting her, it's ok, it's ok, it's ok. I love you, you know that, I just needed to know you did too. They stood like that for several minutes, crying into each other, her head in his shoulder, drawing strength.

Then Puck lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at her.

Blue stared into grey, with a slight tinge of green to it.

"I love you so much." he said.

"I love you too."

And then his lips were on hers, and they were kissing. Years of passion and anger and hate and love swirled into that kiss, a myriad of conflicting and complementing emotions rising and sinking to the surface.

His hands were running down her back, then they were on her shoulders, then in her hair. His whole body trembled with excitement, with nervousness. She was finally kissing him. He had finally won her back. Breaking away gently, he ran a finger down her jawline and chuckled.

"Been a while since we've done that aye?"

She moved her head forward, smiling against his mouth "I don't think we've made up for it just yet." and her lips moved in time with his, and they were kissing again.

His toned arms held her flush against his body, she felt herself weaken at the knees, he felt the hair on his body stand up straight, electrified. Her hands ran through his blonde locks, along his head and neck, his lips were chapped, cut, rough yet incredibly gentle. She loved him, he knew that and so did she, and he loved her back, and the breath hitched in his throat as he ran that thought through his brain, lighting up his arms and legs, the fluttering feeling returning, as if they were kids again.

She pulled away slightly, her lips still against his. Not kissing, just touching. She opened them a little, and murmured to him

"We should probably clean this place up."

"Later." he said, and smiling, guided her face to his.

X

Eventually they did finish fixing up Puck's apartment, after three days and three nights, and a couple shut-off cellphones. They allayed the fears of any of the Everafter neighbours, and the single human one, assuring them that everything was alright and that they had sorted it all out. It was the loving glances they passed each other and the loose grip around each others' waists that did it. '_Good for him.'_ they thought, as they returned to their flats '_He finally found her.'_

They threw out the old beds and desks, stacked all the books and pictures in old boxes, and gone hunting for new furniture. She swiped her credit card, paid for everything, despite his incessant pleading to let him pay for himself. But she always fended off his feeble cries, laughing and smiling with him, kissing him to distract him while she handed the flustered shop attendant her credit card and typed in her PIN number.

Back at his house, they swept out all the dust, opened the curtains and windows to let in some air and light, and cleaned out the bathroom and kitchen. It was just like before, as they threw and shrieked and ducked, but this time the glop grenades were replaced with buckets of soapy water, and the wooden swords with short broom handles.

Every victory, loss, accomplished goal was celebrated with a kiss. Every hour that passed, every half hour, every minute, second, ended and started with a kiss.

She had never felt so alive, he had never felt so happy, they were where they belonged.

Or rather, they were with who they belonged.

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**Thank you for reading. Please review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for reading this far, I hope you enjoy this chapter. This is the last one, and thank you to Curlscat for helping inspire this.**

* * *

He had just come back from the bathroom, drying his paint-smeared hands on a paper towel, to find Sabrina crumpled on the couch, mouth agape, eyes wide open. Instantly he was at her side, stroking her hair with one hand, the other laid across her back, while furious revenge plots seethed through his brain.

"What's wrong?" he asked tentatively, kissing her temple.

She merely shook her head, clutching his shirt front with her hand. With a shaking finger, she pointed towards the ground, at her mobile phone, screen shining. Taking care not dislodge himself from her, he slowly pushed the phone towards his legs, and picked it up. On it was displayed a text message, sent 1 hour ago:

_Hey Sabrina. Just got back from San Franciso, oh my gosh that business meeting was a nightmare! I'll tell you the details when I reach the apartment, right now I just want to see you. Can't wait for some of your delicious cooking! I'll meet you at the apartment! Love you, Bradley_

He swiped his thumb, showing another message, this one more recent, only 10 minutes:

_Hey where are you? I just got back and you're not there. I know your boss gave you the week off but shouldn't you be here to welcome me back? Just kidding, knowing you you've probably gone off shopping or solving mysteries or something :). I'll wait for you here, can't wait to see you! Love you, Bradley_

He switched it off, with a loud click, and threw it on the couch. Frowning, he turned to Sabrina and gently wrapped his arms around her, who was now freely sobbing into his shoulder, and pulled her to his chest, hugging her tightly.

"I completely forgot," she whispered "I can't believe it."

"I know" he replied, rubbing her back.

"I mean, he loves me and I still love him, it's just I love you more and I completely forgot about him and oh my gosh I cheated on him and holy shoot what I have I done?" she sank into him, as if all the strength had suddenly left her, and he was the only thing holding her up. "I suck," she murmured "like, a lot."

He tensed. "Hey," he said firmly "don't say that. It's not true."

"I cheated on him!"

He winced. "Ok yeah, that's not very good," he tightened his grip on her shoulders. "but freaking out isn't going to do anything. You need to do something."

She nodded weakly, but didn't say anything.

He leaned his forehead on hers. "I mean it. Stop crying and think of something." He wiped her eyes with his thumb and kissed her, until he felt her back straighten, until he felt her breath even a little. He pulled away. "Any thoughts?"

"We have to tell him," she said shakily "I owe him that much."

He nodded.

"Now."

He stopped nodding, and peered at her with a confused look in his eyes

"Now?" he echoed "Don't you want any time to process or..."

"No. We have to do it now." she said "If I put it off I'll just back out and then he'll find out some other way and it'll be ten times worse than it actually is."

The look left his eyes. "Alright. We'll do it now then." he agreed. Reaching for his car keys, he opened the door and together they stepped out into the ill-fittingly bright sunshine.

...

The car ride was silent, and tense. On one side, Puck gripped the steering wheel with strong hands, pondering on the situation and wondering if Bradley knew enough about Everafters that he could pop his wings out if things got ugly. _If he tries to hit her...__'_ he thought ominously, and his grip tightens on the wheels til his knuckles crack.

Sabrina, on the other hand, was preparing herself, running over the best way to break the news to him. Her mind worked furiously, thinking of the different approaches to the subject and piecing together what she knew of Bradley to determine the best way to tell him.

''_I love you but-' No, too cliche._

'_This isn't easy to say-' Not sincere enough._

'_I never meant for this to happen and I never-' Now it just sounds like I'm making excuses.'_

Eventually, she finished deciding and closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose as she calmed herself. '_I need him to understand what I'm saying. I can't be an incoherent, mumbling mess.'_

They reached the building, where Bradley stood by the door, tapping a foot nervously and eating a sandwich. Puck stopped the car and Sabrina got out, wringing her hands.

"Sabrina!" Bradley grinned, stepping towards her with outstretched arms. She didn't move.

"Please," she said quietly "please don't."

He stopped, a perplexed look on his face. "What?"

"I... I..." All the pre-thought sentences left her head, and she stuttered loudly, unsure of what to say. Puck, sensing her uncertainty, opened the door and walked around to her.

"Who-who's this?" His voice was weaker now, and a look of concern and fear etched itself in his features, in his darting pupils and raised eyebrows.

"This is... this is Puck." she gestured vaguely, staring at the ground.

"Puck?" He said, almost disbelievingly

"Yes." she whispered.

"Your old boyfriend? The one who left you?"

"Yes."

"What's he doing here? What happened when I was away?"

She sighed. "I met him during your business trip and we... he..."

His eyes fell, and the sandwich dropped to the ground. "Oh. I see." he muttered resignedly, in an almost indiscernible volume.

She nodded weakly, tears forming in her eyes.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and said almost angrily to himself "I knew it. I knew it. I should have seen this coming."

She looked up now, confused at his words. "What do you... what?"

He bent down and began to pick up the bread and cucumber slices on the grass, it was easier to say this way, dirtying his pants and shoes. "I knew that Puck lived here, and I know where he lived. I saw him opening his apartment door one day while I was driving back from work. I barely recognised him then, he didn't look half as handsome as he does now," he smiled briefly at Puck, whose lips twitched upwards in response "but I remembered him from those pictures you showed me, years ago."

He coughed, and the food fell from his shaking hands. "I know..." He broke off, and tried again "When you told me about him, I know there was something different. It wasn't how he acted, or how you acted, it was just... it was when you... Everytime you talked about him you'd start smiling, or crying, or punching something, and I know you're a person of extremes but I never managed to make you feel that way. To make you feel... so much for me."

He stood up.

"I knew all that and I still thought that we had a chance, still thought that we could make it happen. I hoped that if I loved you enough, showed you how much I cared that you would forget about him and love me." He was fingering a bulge in his jacket, where his wallet was, no doubt a picture of Sabrina carefully slid in one of the pockets. "I wanted to be the one who managed to get you, make you think about me in a way he never did. But," here he chuckled sadly "looks like I was too late."

He pulled out his wallet, sliding the picture out. It was a photo of her smiling, eyes shining, mouth open as if she were speaking. But the photo was poorly-taken, blurry and lopsided, and half her face was obscured by a shadow. "I had Anna take this when you were talking about him, pretending she was playing on my phone. I've had this photo for three years, and not once have I managed to get that look on your face." He walked over to Puck, and put it in his hand. "Take it. It's yours anyway."

Sabrina was crying now, tears streaming down her cheeks, and even Puck was biting his lip. Bradley's gaze dropped to the grass by his feet, and water began to pool in his eyes, dripping off his nose. He sniffed, and looked up at her.

"But hey," he said, attempting to smile "at least you're happy right? That's all that matters."

Sabrina couldn't handle it. She broke out of Puck's grip, throwing her arms around Bradley, whose hands went instinctively around hers. Then he remembered what happened, and he retracted, til his fingertips were barely brushing her shoulders.

"I'm so sorry Bradley, I love you but..."

"It's... fine," he said, his voice breaking "I can work through this. And you have Puck to help you. I'll... I'll find some way to deal with it."

"We can still be friends" she said hopefully, almost desperately "we can still talk and hang out and..."

"Of course of course. Don't worry about it. I can't afford to lose any friends anyway, I dont have that many."

She laughed, and he smiled, grateful to see he could still do that right. Pulling back, he stepped away, establishing a clear distance between the two.

"You should probably go now" he said "before I get too choked up." Turning to Puck, he held out his hand. "Treat her well. I've heard a lot about you, and you're lucky to have her." He paused. "Don't even think about hurting her."

"She's lucky to have me." he said teasingly, but with a smile on his lips. He clasped Bradley's hand in a firm handshake "I'll be good to her."

Bradley nodded, and let go. "You two leave then, I'm guessing you want to stay at his place Sabrina. I'll just lock up here and ask around about selling it." He jingled his keys. "It's too big for one person." He added, almost as an afterthought. He turned and walked into the house, with a slight scuffle of shoes. They heard rummaging inside, and saw the door close. Turning to Sabrina, Puck put an arm around her waist and smiled sadly.

"Let's go now." he said. Her eyes were locked on the closed door, but she nodded, moving closer.

"Let's."

...

She withdrew, heavily, in those next few days. She didn't lock herself in her room, or refuse to eat food, nothing as drastic as that, but there was a definite change in her. She became more quiet, almost constantly contemplative, as if pondering on some life-changing puzzle.

Puck didn't interfere, didn't try and force her to engage in anything, because he knew all that would happen would that she would hurt more later.

This was her way of coping, with dealing in a difficult situation, she would try and find the root of the problem, what specifically caused it. He recognised this, so he didn't do anything, simply listened and nodded, letting her know that he was there for her.

And so she stayed like that, and though he didn't like it, the thought of making her stop never crossed his mind, because he knew that if he did she might leave him, and he couldn't take that.

He had just gotten her back.

...

Eventually, she began to open up again, react to her surroundings again.

It was gradual at first, a short chuckle at one of his jokes, a random grin flashed in his direction, but soon those instances built up on each other, piled on, tumbling and falling in their sheer number, until eventually she was her old self again.

Whenever he asked what had changed, she'd simply smile and shake her head, as if it was this grand secret that only she could know. So he dropped it, simply glad that she was back, as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

It helped that Bradley stayed true to his promise. They stayed in contact. She would text him whenever something big happened, or a new movie that she had wanted to see came out, or she had a funny joke that she wanted to share.

He even went out with them on quite a few occasions, out to celebrate a promotion at work, or simply to catch up. Though he wasn't shy, funny and outgoing was more his style, he kept his distance, making sure never to step on their boundaries. because they were each other's of course, and he didn't want to interfere.

So he settled to be their best friend, all his gestures were friendly. When they went out he'd buy carnations for Sabrina, who laughed, and daffodils for Puck, who glared at him.

He never found someone else like Sabrina, but he found someone, and he loved her, and she loved him, and they were happy together.

X

Sabrina lay there in Puck's bed one night, the moonlight streaming in through the open curtain, curled up in his arms. They had just finished cleaning up, showered, brushed their teeth, changed, and jumped into bed. She wrapped herself around him, and he had an arm linked around her shoulder, the other resting on her hand, and he stayed like that in contented silence, feeling the rise and fall of her chest coincide with his.

He loved her, there was no doubt about it, and he was so glad she was with him, so filled with relief and joy that the idea of leaving her for a second sent his heart pounding.

"Hey Sabrina?" he whispered, shifting slightly

"Hm?" she replied, tracing the white scars on his arms in worry. They had thrown out the knife, pushed it as far as they could in the trash bin, but she could never forget the effect it had, and almost completed, on him. She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully, and laid her head on his bare stomach, pressing her lips to the pale lines.

"I love you."

She laughed slightly "I know that. I love you too."

"Marry me?"

She had looked up at that, not expecting his response. He was facing downwards at her, wearing that easy beautiful smile that made her shiver. His eyes glinted with love and passion, but there was no humour in them, no hidden joke or teasing. He was serious.

"Really?"

He nodded. She reached up and kissed him, smiling into it, feeling his lips curve as he did the same, tasting a slight sweetness there. Apples, maybe?

"Of course. Absolutely. A million, billion times over."

He sighed. "Oh good, I thought you'd might say no."

"What'd make you think that?"

"I don't know actually..." he mused thoughtfully "I don't know why anyone wouldn't want to marry me."

She laughed, and slapped him. "You're so full of yourself," she said.

He chuckled, a lighthearted peal in his lungs and throat, that sent vibrations down his chest. Wrapping his arms tighter around her, he nuzzled his head into her neck, murmuring into her shoulder.

"I'll buy you a ring. A nice one. All flashy and shiny so you can show it to Daphne and she'll start squealing"

"One condition" she said.

"What?"

"No rubies."

He chuckled, and kissed her ear.

"No rubies."

* * *

**This is the last chapter (obviously) and thank you for reading. I had a lot of fun (and difficulty) writing this, and I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it. I'd like to thank Curlscat for helping me with this story. She helped me improve this story so much, and she's a really talented writer. I really recommend 'The Moments We Share' and 'Arranged Marriages and Wars of State', they're both written by her and they're really good stories. Thank you for reading, and please review. Criticism, praise, suggestions are all welcome.**


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